


Fear & Force

by ktfics



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Hanahaki Disease, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 14:31:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18942889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktfics/pseuds/ktfics
Summary: Kokichi is in love with Momota and he hates him for it. Kokichi is in love with Momota and it's slowly but surely going to be the death of him.





	Fear & Force

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for @zombiepirate on tumblr! I've been wanting to write a hanahaki au for these two for a while so I'm glad I finally got the chance to do so! For those who don't know, hanahaki is a fictional disease caused by unrequited love that results in flowers growing in the afflicted person's lungs. I've tweaked it a little bit in that the flowers can also bloom out of other parts of the body. Follow me on tumblr @dykeenvy if you wanna talk oumota, @zombiepirate is the one who made my icon in return for this fic!  
> WARNINGS: body horror associated with hanahaki. If blood and illness upset you, please don't read this.

Kokichi pops another grape-flavored lozenge in his mouth as his eyes scan the room around him.

At first, he was sure it had to be Saihara.

The other boy is currently having a conversation with Akamatsu and Amami, and every now and again, he gives a small laugh or a flustered smile. It’s just as cute as Kokichi had found it when they first met, even more so now that there’s no longer a cap constantly blocking his face.

He remembers being fascinated with the idea of meeting a real-life detective, and he had cooked up quite a few fantasies of the other boy desperately trying to solve the riddles he carefully prepared for him.

It had been fun, of course, until a month had passed and Kokichi realized Saihara’s eyes barely saw him even when he took the time to look in his direction.

So maybe it could have been Saihara, earlier in the year, but he knows now that there was nothing more hopelessly boring than a riddle someone gave up on halfway through reading it after realizing it wasn’t worth the effort. So maybe, if not Saihara, then Amami?

His eyes shift to the green-haired boy, an easy smile seemingly permanently fixed upon his face. Amami is pretty in the same way that Saihara is pretty, but he still manages to look years older than most in their class. Yes, Amami is pretty, and he actually listens to what Kokichi has to say, which is a plus.

But Kokichi slides Amami a riddle and the other boy just pockets the paper and smiles at Kokichi and tells him he’s clever without ever bothering to read it. He might as well have not accepted Kokichi’s challenge in the first place if he was just going to go along with it without actually engaging.

So Amami is also off the table. Kokichi is running out of options here. A loud cackle halfway across the room drags his gaze over to the robotic boy Iruma is currently gesturing wildly to.

Kiibo could be a possibility. There’s a surprising handsomeness to be found in the harsh edges of his body and the metallic green of his electrical components, and Kokichi enjoys it even more when the boy attempts to break out of his robotic limits and properly emote in response to Kokichi’s antics. Kiibo may not be human but there’s something inside of him more genuine and earnest than most people Kokichi knew growing up.

He slips a riddle into Kiibo’s hand and the boy reads it over carefully and tells him that he wants nothing more than to figure it out. However, “want” is the key word there; Kokichi knows that no matter how many times Kiibo pours through his words, there will always be a fundamental gap of understanding and intellect between the two of them.

Saihara, Amami, Kiibo; three different ways to approach the problem Kokichi presents to them, and yet, the riddle remains unsolved by the end of it all the same.

Just then, Momota bursts into the classroom, the door violently sliding on its track and slamming into the other side with a loud bang, drawing Kokichi’s eyes to him with an unavoidable gravity. Momota is just as much of a spectacle as he always is, and Kokichi is unable to remain an unaffected observer with him as he is with the others in the class.

Harukawa is tucked under his arm and scowling, a furious blush spreading across her cheeks as Momota laughs and goes on about something unrealistic.

Kokichi slides the lozenge to the side of his mouth and and tries to swallow down both the syrupy grape flavoring and the tinges of blood on the back of his tongue. He reaches down to almost-lazily pluck the purple petal inching its way out of his wrist and crushes it in his fist, before wiping his hand on his pants to get rid of the remains.

Momota gives the classroom a once-over, an encouraging grin splitting his face in two, and pauses for just a moment with a concerned look in his eyes when he gets to Kokichi’s desk and spots the bright packet of cough drops sitting in front of him. Kokichi gives him a playful smile in return and a wink, and the other boy scoffs and turns away to join Saihara’s conversation.

Kokichi bites down, hard, and the lozenge cracks in two under his teeth and is ground up along with the slippery texture of yet another petal.

He knows that he’s lied to himself pretty well in the past, but no amount of invented fantasies could possibly disguise the cloying taste of a sweetness that he will never be able to coexist with or a stubborn boy that could take the time to solve all of his riddles and still not want him.

\--

A hyacinth.

The first time Kokichi had realized something was terribly wrong with him, he had just finished having another inane argument with Momota. At the very end of it, the other boy had frustratedly admitted to Kokichi that he wasn’t actually his enemy, and that the only thing he wanted was to be allowed to know him.

Kokichi had woken up the next morning with shrivelled-up petals adorning his pillowcase and an unnameable ache somewhere deep inside his chest.

He had then started doing his research on the plant carving its way through his lungs and curling into his veins, and was able to identify it as soon as the disease had developed enough to form recognizable buds.

A hyacinth bush has taken root in the hollowness of his body and quickly become as unmanageable as his relationship with the boy potentially causing this is.

According to the articles he’s dug up, the spontaneous plant infestation he’s found himself dealing with is the result of internalized emotions from a repressed, unrequited love with no outlet. Kokichi thinks that’s bullshit; if there’s any part of him that he’s proven he has control over, it’s his emotions. Besides, it’s not like he exactly holds back in his many arguments with Momota; if he is indeed the source of this, that is.

But the flowers now permanently tickling at the bottom of his throat seem to disagree.

From what he can find, there are two possible cures to his predicament; either he gets over his feelings all on his own or the roots can be snipped out directly through a costly procedure, abruptly cutting off any of the original emotions along with the plant itself.

Well, he certainly doesn’t have the money for surgery right now, so that leaves only the first option.

Kokichi clicks through as many floral websites as he can find. The hyacinth flower represents playfulness and loyalty. The purple hyacinth represents sorrow.

Option one isn’t an option at all either, Kokichi decides. There is nothing for him to get over; he’s not in love with Momota, and he definitely doesn’t feel sorry about anything, and there’s no way the petty rivalry between them could be causing all of this. Kokichi doesn’t feel anything for Momota but a lingering sense of disdain.

He reviews his choices once more; Saihara, Amami, Kiibo. All so pretty and quiet and agreeing. And then there’s Momota; if anything, Kokichi should be crossing Momota off the list, what with his disgusting brashness and obnoxious beliefs.

Kokichi thinks a second too long about the other boy’s wide smiles and unwavering eyes and the serious look on his face he had worn when he told Kokichi he was going to figure him out no matter what; after all, it only makes sense that a hero understands his rival to better oppose him.

Kokichi thinks a second too long about the first time the other boy had not only accurately called out one of his lies, but the reasoning behind it as well. He thinks about the first time Momota had recognized one of his lies and played along with it just to see where it would take him.

Kokichi thinks about Momota for a second too long and spends the next half hour paying for it by vomiting up blood.

\--

So maybe, just maybe, he’s potentially, quite possibly, in love with Momota Kaito.

The other boy slams a textbook open from where he sits next to Kokichi and pulls out a notebook. “Alright, man, what’s giving you the most trouble this week?”

Kokichi drums his fingertips against the desk they’re both seated at and pointedly looks away from Momota. He refrains from answering long enough that a tense silence begins to swell between them.

The only sound that makes its way into Kokichi’s small dorm room is the steady droning of cicadas, made louder by the fact that Momota had opened one of his windows as soon as he got here without bothering to ask permission.

Kokichi takes a second longer to gaze outside and pretend that Momota isn’t in his room at all; it’s hot out, and the sun is nearly blinding, even at this time of day. The sight of green grass and the occasional warm breeze drifting in through the open window would be welcoming in any other circumstance, but the accompanying scent of blooming flowers is a bitter mockery that Kokichi could do without.

He waits to talk right up until Momota opens his mouth to speak just so he can experience the small joy of cutting him off. “Shush, Momota-chan! I’m trying to ignore you!”

The other boy scoffs, indignant, and the noise is enough to draw Kokichi’s eyes unwillingly back towards him before he quickly looks away again.

It’s hot outside, and Momota is, for once, not donning his signature coat and button-up combo. It’s hot outside and the air-conditioning in their dorms sucks (so much for the perks of being the country’s best and brightest) and Momota has a slight sheen of sweat covering his now-bare arms.

Kokichi thinks Momota should probably find an Ultimate Tailor and talk to them about getting shirts made in the right size.

“Stop fucking around! The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can both go do something else.” Momota reaches his arm across Kokichi’s chest to gesture at the open window and gives him a front-row view of just how well the white fabric of his shirt clings to his skin. It’s a terrible look, really. Not attractive in the slightest. “Maybe even go outside. You could certainly use the sunlight.”

“Ah, do you want me to burn? How cruel, how uncaring!” Kokichi takes advantage of the tears prickling up in the corners of his eyes as a full flowerbud pokes into the bottom of his throat to put on some waterworks.

Kokichi’s brilliant performance is lost on Momota. “Calm down, have you ever heard of fucking sunscreen? Now come on, let’s get on this. I promised you I’d help you out with passing math, remember? After all, I can’t let my rival fall behind me!”

Oh, Kokichi remembers. It was a rare moment of weakness he had committed at the very beginning of the year; their teacher had gotten suspicious after realizing he didn’t have any knowledge of math past a third-grade level and Kokichi couldn’t have her finding out all of his records were fake and getting him expelled. Graduating from Hope’s Peak was his best shot at getting DICE set for life. He had figured going to Momota for help would’ve been better and less embarrassing than asking someone else, like Iruma.

The enthusiasm of the other boy had made Kokichi start to reconsider his decision; apparently, all Momota needed from him was one crack in his armor and one extended conversation before he had realized that Kokichi was both a) human and b) a potential rival. It was all downhill from there.

Though Kokichi can’t say he wasn’t an active participant in fueling their rivalry; there’s nothing he loves more than a technically willing prank victim or a petty argument waged just for the sake of yelling. Kokichi has to swallow down the handful of petals that suddenly rise over the back of his tongue at those thoughts and clears his throat to disguise his need to cough.

“Hey,” Momota’s voice pulls him out of his reminiscing, “Are you sick, man? I saw those cough drops on your desk earlier, and you seem a bit more distracted than usual. Like I said, I can’t have my rival falling behind me.”

Kokichi scowls at the other boy’s ability to read him, which seems to grow more and more accurate the more time they spend together, but quickly covers it up with a wide grin. “Ah, you’ve discovered my secret, Momota-chan! I’m terribly ill; the doctors say it might even be terminal! Whatever shall we do?”

Kokichi’s need for dramatics causes him to swoon backwards into Momota, though he immediately regrets the action when the boys hands firmly grip onto his shoulders and linger for a few seconds. 

“Knock it off!” Momota’s voice is unusually serious, and when Kokichi makes the mistake of turning his head to look up at him, his eyes are dark and unwavering. “Don’t joke about that shit.”

For a second, the tension from before returns at full force, and Kokichi finds himself literally breathless as a veritable basket’s worth of hyacinth petals erupt out of his throat and push at the back of his teeth.

Kokichi has amused himself before by trying to guess at the color of Momota’s eyes, but right now, they seem as vast and endless as the personality of the boy in front of him. Momota’s hands are strong and supportive and his mouth is settled into a look of concern that he can’t help wearing for everyone, because even if Kokichi can delude himself into thinking his rival status elevates him above his other classmates, he can’t pretend that he’s exactly noteworthy in that regard.

Momota’s mouth is an inch away from Kokichi’s and he could lean up and steal a kiss from the other boy just as he has countless of his other possessions if not for reality of the blood threatening to leak out of the corners of his mouth.

Kokichi is just barely able to wrench his gaze away and cough into a nearby tissue, doubling over to disguise the reality of his situation and yanking out the buds that have managed to push through the delicate skin of his wrists in an attempt to bloom as he does so.

Momota leans back and lets out a startled yelp as he exclaims “So, you are sick?” Kokichi shakes his head as he shoves the tissue into the bottom of his trash can.

“Nope! Just a little act to make sure my beloved rival is still paying attention to me! Actually, maybe it’s the sight of your face that’s making me sick!” Momota huffs at him in response.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you? I just told you not to joke about this shit!” Kokichi almost applauds himself for his lie until Momota’s next words cause the petals to creep right back up his throat. “Besides, you don’t have to pull anything to get me to pay attention to you; I’ll do it anyways without you asking.”

Kokichi scrunches his eyes shut tight for a second as he attempts to remind himself that Momota could probably talk at a coma patient for hours if you let him; Kokichi wasn’t special just because he had a talent for riling the other boy up.

“Alright,” Momota suddenly clears his throat and moves his chair away from Kokichi’s. “Let’s just start with what we learned on Monday.”

He’s grateful that they’ve moved on to a topic other than illness, but for a second, Kokichi thinks that talking about literally anything else, even his pointless and likely-fatal crush, would be better than having to talk about math.

\--

Kokichi quickly realizes that one of the main problems of his illness potentially being caused by Momota is the surprising amount of time they spend together, even beyond the weekly tutoring sessions.

There were his pranks to consider, of course. Depending on his mood, those normally take place once or twice every couple of weeks. When Momota was looking particularly frustrated or Kokichi was feeling restless and he could tell they both needed the distraction, he might instead amp it up to two or three times in one week.

On top of the pranks, Kokichi has to take into account how often their casual ribbing sessions occur as well. At the beginning of the year, Kokichi had broken into Momota’s room just to annoy the other boy, but after a month had passed and he had stopped bothering to ask him to leave, it became a routine; Kokichi would pop in some time after classes ended a few days a week to pass time poking fun at the other boy. And, well, if they sometimes talk about topics that weren’t so focused on pissing each other off, then no one needed to know anyways.

Then there’s the fact that Momota has started dragging Kokichi to the school’s observatory with him on weekends in an attempt to prove his own intelligence and use Kokichi’s teasing to encourage him to work even harder to get to the stars.

Which, of course, Kokichi is always happy to tease and belittle and annoy Momota, but the point is, they spend a lot more time together than he had initially thought. It seems that whatever time Momota doesn’t spend lecturing his sidekicks, he spends engaging with Kokichi.

At first, he had thought he would be able to just avoid Momota and this whole predicament would fade away. But the more time he spends away from Momota, the more time he inadvertently spends thinking about future pranks he could pull on the boy, or ways to get him going and make him look like an idiot, and then his thoughts spiral even more into thinking about what Momota looks like, and the real reason why Kokichi refuses to participate in his sidekick training sessions with him (are astronauts supposed to be ripped? At this point Momota is just being excessive), and then there are petals pushing out past his tongue and through his skin and he’s suffering all the same.

Spending more time with Momota doesn’t seem to be a good option here either, though. The other boy is… tactile, to say the least. If he’s not wrapping his arm around Kokichi or ruffling his hair, then he still stands much too close for comfort. Not to mention the fact that his smile is basically a force of nature in and of itself; Kokichi’s favorite Momota smile has to be the one that only he can drag out of him, the one that’s both slightly aggravated and excited for a challenge, the one that means a chase is about to take way.

And, well, if thinking about that smile is enough to fuel the disease, then seeing it in person is enough to make Kokichi dizzy with oxygen loss.

Momota has been better about keeping a bit of a distance lately, which is both surprising and slightly disappointing, but even when Kokichi tries his best to stay away himself, there seems to be a gravity between them that always drags them closer. Momota has a conversation from across the room and mentions his name and the two of them are back to bickering; Kokichi avoids going to Momota’s room after classes and they run into each other in the dorm kitchen and end up hanging out anyways.

Kokichi is becoming scarily familiar with the taste of grape intermingled with blood.

So he can’t stay away from Momota physically, and he can’t control himself during conversations. The only other option is to stop wanting to be near him entirely.

That’s ridiculous. Even when Kokichi can admit he might be attracted to the other boy, there’s nothing to stop liking about him. Momota doesn’t have a single positive trait, not one, not his resolve, or his ability to match Kokichi’s wits, or the constant support he provides everyone, or the way he’s always so full of life, or-

Who is he kidding? Kokichi thinks about cutting off his attraction to Momota and there is nothing that seems more impossible. Kokichi thinks about cutting off his attraction to Momota and he thinks he prefers coughing up blood. He thinks it might hurt less.

After all, at the end of the day, being drawn to Momota Kaito and breathing are both fundamental, undeniable facets of his life in all the same ways. It’s just a matter of figuring out which loss will kill him quicker.

\--

Even if leaving Momota alone entirely would have been impossible, maybe Kokichi should have been a bit more careful with his choices.

“Get back here!” The sound of Momota’s slippers hitting the ground with hard slaps follows Kokichi around a corner. The other boy is four, maybe five, feet away from him at most, and steadily gaining.

“Nishishi! I don’t know why you’re so worked up Momota-chan! It’s just a little paint!” Kokichi’s breath leaves him in short gasps as he tries to maintain his pace.

“Just a little- you ruined my coat, you asshole!” A hand reaches out close enough to tug on the knot of his scarf, and Kokichi feels his legs burning beneath him as he runs around another bend in an attempt to throw Momota off.

“It’s washable! Probably!” Momota doesn’t respond, and for a second, Kokichi thinks he may have run out of steam, but the other boy had apparently just been conserving his energy for one last burst of speed, because he feels a hand clamp down onto his shoulder a moment later.

Their combined momentum sends both of them careening into the nearest wall, but Momota wraps an arm around Kokichi at the last second and absorbs most of the blow.

“Ha, gotcha!” Kokichi’s eyes widen before he half-turns to stare back at Momota, the victorious grin on his face slowly morphing into something that looks almost expectant. For a moment, neither of them say anything else, and the sound of their breathless panting fills the hallway. Time stills as the other boy remains wrapped around him, not backing down, not moving away. Kokichi could almost delude himself into imagining that Momota is leaning in even closer, and that the tension between them is finally crescendoing.

The slow growth of the hyacinths inside of him accelerates to an almost unbearable rate, and all of a sudden, leaves and petal and stems are all cramming their way into his mouth. Momota jerks back at the same time that Kokichi shoves himself away from him and into the wall, and they both separate with the violence of a rubber band snapping after being pulled too taut.

The other boy runs off and Kokichi flees in the opposite direction and into the nearest bathroom. His small fingers sporadically clench at the white porcelain of a sink while he coughs up enough flowers to fill a garden. Small vine-like tendrils curl around his collarbones and forearms as the foliage attempts to leave his body in other ways.

There is no part of him that is not bursting open, his skin and his lungs and his goddamn heart.  
Momota has always been able to drag out this special brand of vulnerability from him, one that stems from his inability to not react or emote around the other boy, and it seems as if this is reflected back in how Kokichi is now being physically ripped open.

Kokichi had thought he had mastered the skill of not allowing anyone the opportunity to hurt him, but all the time he’s spent being closed off emotionally has just culminated in this disease, in this act of being torn apart due to his own repressed emotions and self-imposed unloveable characteristics.

Kokichi looks up into the mirror, blood staining both the porcelain sink and his porcelain-doll skin, and practices controlling himself. He cycles through the expressions he’s carefully cultivated over the years, as if they would allow him to explain away his situation, as if he could yank the puppet strings attached to his face and make a smile wide enough to convince himself he’s completely fine.

For the first time in his life, Kokichi is met with an uncontrollable source of pain and cannot for the life of him come up with a plan to deal with it.

\--

Okay, so Kokichi is, in fact, in love with Momota Kaito. And yes, Kokichi is, in fact, dying.

He just wishes the other boy wouldn’t rub it in so much.

He listens in as Momota has an unreasonably loud conversation with Saihara and Harukawa from across the room. It’s been a week since their last chase sequence had occurred and they had gotten a little too close to one another, and Momota hasn’t sought him out once since then. Not to bicker or drag him somewhere he pretended to hate or run circles around one another.

Kokichi knows that Momota’s sidekicks have always taken priority over him; Kokichi knows that Momota is bright and beloved in a way that he never has once been in his entire life.

Momota Kaito, Luminary of the Stars. Momota Kaito, the untouchable hero destined to explore the galaxies and settle down with a beautiful wife and a picture perfect house and never have to wonder what he has to lie about to survive or who he needs to exploit to get his next meal.

Kokichi can’t tell whether he’s jealous of Momota or admiring him and it grates at his nerves. There’s always been a thin line between the two of them, and he can never be sure if Momota understands him better than anyone else possibly could or if he’s just a grand, hypocritical idiot and there’s not a single feeling of fondness underneath all the frustration they both commonly display.

Kokichi is in love with Momota and he hates him for it, for the impossibility of it all. He thinks back to the article he read; his illness stems from an intense unrequited love. He traces out the word “unrequited” on his desk with his fingertips until his hand goes numb.

He was never going to be on the other boy’s radar, not really, and he just wishes Momota hadn’t spent so much time convincing Kokichi to lie to himself and then ignored him as soon as things got too real between them.

Perhaps he had overestimated the importance of a rival in Momota’s life; he had never really expected the other boy to fall in love with him, but that’s fine, Kokichi has gotten very good at thriving off of negative attention. The absence of any attention at all is what really stings.

“Hey, come on, Shuichi, you know I never back down from a challenge!” Momota’s voice booms across the room and Kokichi feels its impact just as physically as he feels the hyacinths that are going to end his life within the week. He’s dizzy and weak in a way that he knows is really bad news from his own experiences with malnutrition in the past, and Kokichi is tired of putting on a smile and shoving a lozenge into his mouth and swallowing down petals and words, and so he laughs loudly at Momota’s frankly audacious exclamation.

The room stills at his outburst, and Momota slowly turns to face him, looking incredulous. “Wha-?”

“Never back down from a challenge, huh? You shouldn’t lie so close to me, Momota-chan!” For a second, Momota just looks confused, before the frustration starts to creep into his expression.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” The other boy stomps over to him, and Kokichi scrapes his chair back from his desk and stands to meet him.

“I know that you’re kind of slow, but even you should understand that I’m calling you a coward.” Momota gets closer to him, as close as they were the other day, and this is all Kokichi has ever wanted from him; a reaction.

“Who the hell are you to call me a coward? You’re the one that’s constantly running around and telling lies and never facing the truth!” Kokichi grimaces at the sheer anger in his eyes, like a little kid that had pulled on a dog’s tail to get its attention and was still surprised when they got bitten.

But whatever, if Momota wanted to be mean, he could be mean in return. If Momota wanted honesty, he would get honesty. “Ah, so a coward and a hypocrite! Let’s face it, Momota-chan, the only thing you’re actually good at is using people to make yourself feel better!”

“Using people- it’s called helping people, jackass, you should try it sometime! Maybe more people would want to be around you!” Kokichi’s lungs heave around both the flowers creeping up and the emotions tearing through his chest.

“Well, if I’m so repulsive to you, maybe you should have never made me your rival! I never needed this, you know?” Momota’s hands clench and unclench in the air, looking like he’s either about to pull his own hair out or strangle Kokichi.

“I know, I fucking know, I get it, you’re some emotionless, impenetrable fortress and you’ve never cared about anyone but yourself, and the only reason you hang out with me is because you enjoy jerking me around- I know!” Kokichi grits his teeth as he finally hears what Momota must think of him, and the stems in his lungs constrict in a way they never have before.

“God, you’re such an idiot. I hate you!” The vitriol coming out of his own voice almost surprises him, but the genuine hurt surprises him even more. This is the first time in a long time he’s lost control like this in front of so many people, and all of his frustrations seem to hit him at once as more petals than he can even contain in both his mouth and his throat burst out of him.

“Yeah, well, the feeling is fucking mutual!” Kokichi doubles over and grabs onto Momota’s arm, blood spilling out of his mouth, his lungs crackling in a desperate attempt to take in oxygen. He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe; every time he manages to cough hard enough to expel some petals along with the blood, more rush in to take their place. The taste is disgusting and all-encompassing, and Kokichi can feel full hyacinth flowers push through his skin and burst out from underneath his sleeves, his scarf, the bottom of his shirt. His arms twitch as they try to escape from the sensation but there is nowhere to go; he’s done this to himself.

Kokichi can feel blood dripping down his face, and for a second, that seems normal, until he realizes that it’s coming from much higher up than his own mouth.

He looks up. Momota is leaning into him just as much as Kokichi is swaying forward into the other boy, both of them supporting one another. He’s got petals clenched in his fist and flowers poking out of his collar and blood splattered across his chin and a horrified look on his face.

He’s blooming purple hyacinths all over.

“Y-you-” Momota’s eyes are wide and unbelieving. “You’re also…?”

“Yeah,” Kokichi attempts to speak through the hoarseness of his throat now that the petals have seemingly subsided, “Yeah, me too.”

“I thought… I thought it wasn’t you… and when I figured it out, I thought you couldn’t possibly want me.” Kokichi feels every single flower bud and petal shrivel up and fall to the floor beneath him. He gulps in air freely for the first time in weeks.

“Yeah. Me too.” Kokichi’s hand doesn’t move from Momota’s arm and for the moment, they just stare at each other, that same seemingly-impossible want rising up in both of them. 

The rest of their classmates rush up to gather around the two of them, and Kokichi is brought back to the real world as he realizes the spectacle they had just put on.

“Oh my god, are you two alright-” Akamatsu frantically looks back and forth between both of them and reaches out a hand like she wants to help but doesn’t know how.

Nearly simultaneously, Kokichi and Kaito both plaster on a grin and give the others an “I’m fine” through their lingering weakness.

Tojo clamps a hand down onto both of their shoulders. “Nurse’s office. Now. No protests.”

And as she ushers them both out the door, Kokichi watches as she proceeds to grab a broom and sweep up all the remaining evidence of their pain from the past few weeks.

\--

That night, Momota drags him out to the school rooftop with a telescope tucked under his arm and a blanket in one hand and Kokichi’s in his other.

“I’m sorry I said that shit earlier,” he mutters when it’s dark enough that neither of them are forced to look each other in the eyes, “You just… get me going in a way that no one else ever has. I didn’t think it was possible to feel so much for one person.”

Kokichi hums in response and reflects Momota’s words back at him, but only in his head. He doesn’t think it’s very becoming of a supreme leader to get that sappy or honest, so instead, he reaches up towards the other boy and fumbles around in the dark until he’s able to rest his hand on the side of Momota’s face.

“Yeah, well, I meant what I said earlier. I do think you’re an idiot; you should have told me.” He can feel the edge of Momota’s mouth crinkle up into a smile against the tips of his fingers.

“And I’m the hypocrite?” Kokichi pouts at him, though he knows the other boy can’t even see his theatrics right now.

“You’re the hero type, Momota-chan, it’s your job to make the first move!” Momota just lets out a small chuckle.

“Y’know, if you wanted me to kiss you, there are easier ways of askin’.” And Kokichi has a quip prepared on the tip of his tongue, about how of course he didn’t want to be kissed, this whole thing was just a lie, or whatever, but as soon as Momota’s mouth presses against his, he reconsiders his priorities.

Momota is stupid and infuriating and he never knows when to give up. Momota is strong and supportive and terribly attractive, and for the first time in weeks, neither of them can taste flower petals.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated! :D


End file.
